


Knock Knock

by Protecttonystark



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is a sweet soft dork, Fluff, How could you not fall in love with him, M/M, seriously so much fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-28 20:53:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15057590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Protecttonystark/pseuds/Protecttonystark
Summary: Connor is a little shit. Gavin is maybe possibly definitely in love. When did this become his life?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This robo boi has taken over my life. My first ever fanfic, so constructive criticism is welcomed!

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest, one corner of his mouth quirked up as he watched the DPD’s resident android detective from the corner of his eye.

  
He had certainly had his doubts when the robo-wonder had shown up after the clusterfuck that was the android rebellion, shadowing Anderson’s every move like a damn duckling—and while Gavin had been tempted to make sure the stupid thing was well aware of its place, he’d held his tongue. After all, he’d heard that Anderson had already given out three black eyes and one broken nose to various people who thought they could make a snide comment or overt threat to his little plastic pet. He was just protecting himself, obviously, the lieutenant already didn’t like him—it had nothing to do with the android’s doe eyes, or the kicked puppy look on its face when it stared down at its feet, LED cycling between red and yellow. It wasn’t because he felt bad for the thing—that would be stupid. It was an android, a machine, a hunk of metal that was programmed to mimic human emotion to fulfill a task, that was all.

  
Unfortunately, it was pretty much impossible to cling to that mindset—even considering how spitefully stubborn Gavin could be—when faced with the absolute whirlwind of emotions that was Connor. Considering how much of his original programming involved recognizing and exploiting human emotions, the android was complete shit when it came to dealing with his own emotional response to, well, pretty much anything and everything (Gavin would never, ever admit it, but he remembers exactly the moment the little shit had gone from _it_ to _he_ in his mind—a Hallmark worthy moment involving a box of kittens and the android in question crying honest to God _tears of joy_ when he held one in his hands. Gavin, again, would _never ever_ admit it, but he may have snapped a few pictures, that he may still pull up when he was having a really shitty day.) Ever since breaking free of the shackling of his programming and becoming fully deviant, the android was a complete and total open book.

  
“Detective Reed, if I may take a moment of your time?”

Gavin rolled his eyes with a snort. No matter how many times he overheard Anderson huffing for the android to _lighten up a little, Connor, for fuck’s sake, you sound like a goddamn Jane Austen novel,_ he had yet to hear Connor use anything but impeccable, polite grammar. It had irritated him, before he finally recognized the playful spark in his eyes, that stupid, adorable self-satisfied grin—that always did _stupid, adorable_ things to the butterflies in Gavin’s stomach that he would deny until his dying day—that he realized the little shit was at least partly doing it on purpose. And wasn’t that a surprise to learn, that not only was the android a ~~cute~~ ridiculous trainwreck of emotions that seemed to jump from one extreme to another fast enough to legitimately make Gavin a little dizzy some days, he was also a damn brat.

“Depends. What’re you up to?” The question was supposed to come out suspicious, but somewhere in between the words traveling from his brain to his mouth, those goddamn butterflies decided they wanted a say, and even he, drowning in denial as he was, could tell the words were simply oozing _fond_.

“I have a joke.”

And, damn, Gavin had seen Connor working cases since the rebellion ended—he’d seen him take down a room of armed, angry assailants with an ease that was legitimately a little bit terrifying ~~and a lot arousing~~ on _multiple occasions_ —and yet here he stood, practically vibrating in excitement, and Gavin is struck, not for the first time, by a warmth in his chest at how sweetly vulnerable the android really was, open and completely unable to hide what he was feeling. Connor was such an odd contradiction—absolutely ruthless when the situation called for it, with a fierce desire for justice and a certain degree of ‘the ends justify the means’, coupled with the sort of joyful innocence that could rival a whole room full of puppies.

“Okay, I’ll bite. Let’s hear it.”

Connor’s grin widened, eyes sparkling, “why did the chicken cross the road?”

Gavin cocked an eyebrow, his own smile growing in response, “why?”

“To get to the idiot’s house.”

“Wh—“

“Knock, knock.”

Gavin blinked, thrown off for a moment, “uh, who’s there?”

“The chicken.”

Gavin gaped for a long moment before a laugh, loud and way more genuine than people usually got from him, burst its way up from his chest without even bothering to ask for permission first.

“Unbelievable, how dare you—you are such a little shit!”

Connor could not have possibly looked more proud of himself, one hand almost covering his mouth as he laughed—and, God, Gavin sure did feel a little bit pathetic the day he was forced to admit to himself that Connor laughing had become one of his favorite sounds.

“Who the hell taught you that, anyway?”

“As you know, Detective, I am a very advanced prototype. I am more than capable of teaching myself.”

Gavin snorted another laugh at that, valiantly pretending that the way Connor practically preened at the reaction had no effect on his heart rate. Nope, no stupid, embarrassing crush happening to _this_ detective, no sir.

“Uh-huh. Does the good lieutenant know you’re going around insulting your coworkers so heartlessly?” To be fair, Anderson would probably be proud—really, the only reason Gavin was fairly certain Connor hadn’t picked that particular joke up from the lieutenant was the lack of profanity.

Connor sniffed, straightening his already immaculate tie, “I’m a deviant now, Detective, I don’t need Lieutenant Anderson’s permission to do as I wish.” And, holy shit, how the fuck does Connor manage to look so smug and so wholesomely _sweet_ at the same time? It should be outlawed, effective immediately, if for no other reason than the fact that Gavin’s pretty sure his heart’s just going to give out entirely any moment now.

“You are, without a doubt, the biggest fucking brat I have ever met in my entire life.”

Connor looks caught somewhere between pleased and offended with that, eyes narrowing in suspicion even as that pleased little smile curves up once more, as though he just can’t help himself and, damn, Gavin is so, so screwed.

Connor opens his mouth to respond before he’s cut off by Anderson, stepping up beside him and taking his elbow to lead him away with some muttered explanation that there’s been a new development in whatever case the two of them have been working on, sparing Gavin nothing but a very suspicious glare. Gavin would be more grateful that at least the lieutenant has apparently stopped trying to melt a hole in his skill with his eyes like he was a month or two ago, but he’s been thrown more than a little off kilter by the realization that he had been so focused on Connor he had completely forgotten that they were at work, and supposed to be, y’know, _working_. It was like being in middle school all over again, all sweaty palms and weak knees and he swears he hasn’t been this gone on someone since he was a teenager.

He’s shaken from the mourning of what seems to be all of his higher brain functions by the small, almost shy smile Connor flashes him as he walks out the door behind Anderson, and suddenly all Gavin can do is try to calculate the chances of Anderson actually murdering him if Gavin were to shove Connor up against a wall and find out once and for all if an android could get hickeys. Probably pretty high, but as Gavin lets his head thunk down onto his desk, he kind of thinks it might be worth it.

Yeah, he’s so screwed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I am so blown away that you actually like this?? I was so nervous about posting the first chapter, so thank you so much to everyone who left kudos and comments! Enjoy another chapter of the Hopeless Romantic and his perfect soft roboboi

“You, uh—you okay, dude?”

Gavin’s not exactly adept at comforting people. He knew there were a pretty significant number of people who would be happy to insist that he was _fucking terrible_ at it. Which seems a bit harsh to him—sure, he tends to be awkward and uncomfortable when it comes to genuine emotions, and okay, he can concede that when he’s awkward and uncomfortable he tends to end up retreating towards aggressive, but just because he can recognize when he’s using being an asshole as some sort of fucked up defense mechanism doesn’t mean he can actually _stop doing it._

Which is a problem, because Connor is currently sitting in the break room, huddled into himself on a chair in the corner, shoulders curled in and arms wrapped around himself as though he’s trying to shrink down and take up the least possible amount of space. Gavin knew the guy struggled sometimes with the overwhelming task of processing emotions, but the android could usually be found glued to Anderson’s side when he was feeling unsure or upset. And Gavin’s half convinced CyberLife actually sent the man a user manual when they assigned Connor to work with him because, no matter how much trouble Connor himself has with decoding just what the hell is going on in that brilliant silicone brain, the lieutenant always seems to just know how to make him feel better. 

Gavin would love to say he’s not jealous of the fact that Anderson is the guy Connor goes to for absolutely everything without even a second’s thought, but he’s never quite mastered the art of lying to himself. Doesn’t stop him from trying, which, really, only makes him feel even more pathetic when he can’t even convince _himself_. But Gavin’s got no time to sullenly try to trick himself into believing he doesn’t give a shit about anyone, not when he’s faced with the frankly heartbreaking sight of the usually vibrant, borderline manically cheerful android sitting silently and looking as though he’d like nothing more than to simply sink down through the floor and disappear from the face of the earth entirely. Which, again, Gavin has no idea how to deal with because this is Hank’s forte and Gavin is _not good with emotions._

He spares a glance out into the office, biting his lip as he confirms that Anderson has not miraculously appeared to come and figure out what’s got the android looking so lost and—hopeless. And just as the way that Connor’s smug, self satisfied little grin when he knows he’s made someone laugh have quickly become one of his favorite things in all the world to look at, Gavin decides then and there that he does not want to ever see this look on Connor, ever again.

Unfortunately, that means that he has to somehow learn to spontaneously overcome a lifetime of emotional repression in the next five seconds. 

He sidles up a little closer to the android, heart twisting at the way Connor’s shoulders hunch even further in, arms tightening around his waist and god, it looks like the poor guy is trying to wrap himself up in a hug and _Gavin doesn’t know what the fuck to do._

 

“Cat got your tongue, bud?” He keeps his voice soft and low, gently nudging Connor’s shoulder with his hip, hoping he can get him to say something or look at him or respond in some way because this still silence is really freaking him out. 

And he’s suddenly got an idea that he prays will work, because Plan B is ferreting out Anderson’s phone number and just hoping really hard the lieutenant doesn’t just assume he did something and kill him in some horrific, creative manner just to be on the safe side.

"I’ve got a cat?” He swears that wasn’t supposed to be a question, and he’s almost positive he meant to start an actual conversation and steer it towards the subject, instead of just dropping it in with no context and _ah, yes, hello again Lack of Social Skills, just when I was starting to think I’d snuck by without your attention._

Luckily, Connor doesn’t seem to mind the fact that Gavin’s pretty sure this might be the most awkward and uncomfortable he’s ever felt. The android’s eyes finally flick upwards, LED switching from the _DANGER ! DANGER !_ shade of red that was really freaking Gavin out to a slightly more serene yellow. It’s not until Connor sits up a little straighter, peeking behind Gavin before leaning over to peer through the doorway that Gavin realizes—

"Oh, no, I mean—I don’t have a cat here, he, uh, he’s at my house?” And, goddamnit, why the fuck does everything he says have to come out as a fucking question right now? “Probably doing something he shouldn’t be—y’know, you’d probably like him, he’s almost as big of a brat as you are.”

And, ah, there it is—small and still too fragile looking to really put Gavin at ease, but he can see the slight curve playing at the corners of Connor’s mouth and at this point he’ll take even that tiny little smile as a victory.

“Doubtful.” The android’s voice sounds just a little shaky, eyes fixed on his knees, but Gavin can hear the trace of that teasing edge that always warms his chest in such a funny way. “I have it on good authority that I’m the biggest brat there is.”

“Hey, I said _almost_ , didn’t I?” He smiles, sneaking a hand out to ruffle Connor’s hair and chuckling at the irritated huff it earns him, “don’t worry, Tin Man, you’re still the champion of that department.”

“Does that mean I get a trophy, Dorothy?”

That gets another laugh and an eye roll, “yeah, I’m workin’ on it right now. ‘s just your face with “World’s Biggest Brat” on it.” 

Connor shoots him a glare, but it’s effect is marred somewhat by the growing smile and the fact that he’s practically preening, and Gavin has never met someone so ridiculous in his whole life and good god, _he’s perfect_. Gavin hooks a nearby chair with his foot, dragging it over so he can settle in next to the android.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

Connor tenses, LED flashing red once more and Gavin could just punch himself right in the face when he sees that small smile slide right back into a tight, withdrawn frown. He’s silent a moment, and Gavin gets as far as opening his mouth to say—fuck, he legitimately doesn’t even know, which never bodes well—when Connor shakes his head.

“I would prefer not to, if it’s all right with you.” 

And Gavin is so, so tempted to press the issue, because he hates to see Connor looking so lost and defeated and he’s so desperate to figure out why so he can fix it, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that trying to force it will do more harm than good. So, instead, he nods, fishing his phone out of his pocket and pulling up a picture before passing it to the android. Connor has a brief moment to look hesitant, and Gavin can tell the instant he processes the picture because his face lights up. Gavin doesn’t even have the energy anymore to pretend the expression doesn’t make his heart do somersaults.

He nods his head towards the phone with a crooked grin, “that’s Milo.”

"He’s beautiful,” and, damn, Gavin’s never heard someone sound in such sincere awe about his cat before, and he finds trying to memorize the gentle curve of Connor's smile.

He snorts a laugh, “he’s a shithead, is what he is. He fuckin' knows it, too.” That gets him a laugh from Connor—not the loud, enthusiastic laugh that has somehow become the highlight of his day every time he gets to hear it, but a genuine laugh nonetheless. 

Connor is quiet for another few moments, but it’s not the heartstopping, pained silence from before. His posture is loose and relaxed—at least, as loose and relaxed as Connor gets with his picture perfect posture—and he’s looking at Gavin’s cat like it’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. And, really, that’s just not fair, because Gavin loves that little furry terror, and he ~~loves~~ really likes Connor, and seeing the android look at the fuzzy gremlin like some sort of angelic vision is doing things to his heart. Finally, Connor slides the phone back over to Gavin with a contented sigh. Gavin pockets the phone, shooting Connor a curious look as the android studies him for a quiet moment before his grin widens.

“Detective Reed?”

"Um, yeah?” 

I have another joke.” 

The statement takes a second to process before Gavin huffs a laugh, “does this mean you’re gonna call me an idiot again?”

Connor grins, completely unrepentant, “no insults this time, Detective, you have my word.” 

Gavin leans back with a grin, motioning for Connor to go ahead. 

"Three men are on a boat with four cigarettes, but nothing to light them with. What do they do?”

Gavin narrows his eyes as he stares at Connor, looking for a hint, but the android simply stares back, grin growing wider with each second.

“I dunno, what?” 

"They throw one cigarette overboard and the whole boat becomes a cigarette lighter.”

Gavin is stunned into silence for a brief moment before bursting into laughter and God damn, Connor looks to be so proud of himself he could burst and, oh, there it is. Connor laughs, and it’s Gavin’s favorite laugh—loud and genuine and beautiful.

“All right, I’ll admit, that was a good one.” And Gavin wishes he could pull his phone out and snap a picture of Connor without immediately becoming the _biggest creep,_ because the smile Connor gives him in response is just about enough to blind him.

“I suppose I should go back to work.” Connor stands, and Gavin has to fight off a sudden desire to pull him on to his lap.

"Oh, yeah, that—that’s probably good.” Good God, does Gavin sound as stupid as he feels? He feels pretty fucking stupid, so he sure as hell hopes not—but Connor doesn’t seem put off, giving one more gentle smile as he walks towards the door.

“Detective?” Gavin startles, looking to where Connor stands in the doorway, head tilted to the side. He glances down for a moment, smile soft and just a little shy and Gavin is struck once more by a fierce desire to bundle the android into his arms, tuck him up snug and _safe_ against his chest.

“What’s up?”

“Thank you.” 

With that, Connor turns and walks back to his desk, leaving Gavin to try and remember how to breathe.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, a HUGE thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments, y'all have no idea how much that means!! I was super worried about how well this was gonna turn out, and I am having so much fun with these two, so seriously thanks to everyone for the encouragement!

“Today is an exceptionally beautiful day, is it not?”

  
Gavin squinted at the android currently dripping water onto the station floor from rain the pouring down in sheets outside. Before he could ask just why the hell Connor would be so enamored with such a grey, soggy afternoon, he heard Anderson’s huff of laughter from where he sat at his desk, the lieutenant rolling his eyes with the fond grin that Gavin is pretty sure has _never once_ been directed at anyone besides Connor.

“What kind’a dog was it?”

Connor beams as he settles into his own chair, LED the bright, clear blue that seemed to signify a particularly happy mood, “she appeared to be a cross between a corgi and a border collie, and she was _perfect_.”

Gavin watched from the corner of his eye as Anderson shot Connor a very skeptical look—Gavin idly wonders how many years Anderson had to practice that look before it would come out just right.

“You have described literally every single dog you’ve ever seen as perfect.”

Gavin bites down hard on his lip to stifle a laugh when he catches the offended glare the android sends his partner, hunching further over his desk, nose almost touching the paper, doing his very best to seem absorbed in his work. Watching Connor and Anderson bicker back and forth had quickly become a favorite activity of almost everyone in the station once the general strangeness of having the android around on a permanent basis, and Gavin’s man enough to admit he’s a sucker for the look of righteous indignation Connor sports when Anderson riles him up. It’s one of his favorite of Connor’s expressions, right up there with every face he’s ever seen Connor make.

“That’s because literally every single dog I’ve ever seen _is_ perfect!”

And, god, Gavin can’t help the laugh that escapes him, but in his defense he’s only human, and Connor looks like he’s about to fly across the desk and _physically fight_ Anderson, and—look, it’s really fucking cute, all right? But he can practically feel when Anderson’s eyes zero in on him, and he feels his palms start to sweat—good god, he hasn’t been this nervous around someone’s parent since he showed up to take Nicky Staltin to prom and her mom pulled out an _actual sword_ in the midst of telling him to have her daughter home by a decent hour.

And it’s ridiculous, because as much as Anderson acts like it, he’s not actually Connor’s dad. And besides, they’re in a police station, so even in the even that Anderson develops spontaneous mind reading powers and discovers that Gavin’s been nursing a crush the size of the continental US on his robo-son, it’s not like he can actually kill him. Not to mention, everyone in the department—hell, probably everyone in Detroit—knows that Connor’s got the lieutenant wrapped around his finger. Gavin’s really crossing his own fingers that, in the event he actually manages to get off his nervous little ass and ask Connor out, the threat of Connor’s kicked puppy eyes will be enough to keep Anderson from tracking him down and beating him to death before dumping his body somewhere disgusting, just as an added insult.

Gavin’s already opening his mouth to snap something at Anderson that he _knows_ is gonna get his ass kicked, because that glare is making him nervous and he doesn’t deal well with being nervous—he’d sort’a hoped, when he was younger and starting to figure out that, cool, he’s just gonna be nervous pretty much _all the time_ , he would’ve figured out a more constructive way to handle it than open hostility, but his ability to function as a rational adult just flips him off and walks the fuck out anytime he tries to kick its ass into gear. He’s saved by the genuinely thrilled look Connor gives him when he looks over, as if he just couldn’t be more excited to see him. The horrible little goblin that lives in Gavin’s brain yelling stupid, mean shit all day is promptly pushed out of the way by the frankly _embarrassing_ goblin that lives in Gavin’s brain shrieking about how fucking perfect Connor is and, _oh, did you notice the way he crinkles his nose up when he’s really amused by something, oh, we should definitely not think about anything else all fucking day._ Gavin would be more irritated about it, but he always find himself stuck in a loop—the fact that he can’t think about anything but Connor all day, every day means that he doesn’t really have any brain power left over to be pissed off about the fact that he can’t think about anything but Connor, all day, every day.

“Detective Reed!”

Gavin blinks his way out of his brief internal struggle to find a very excited android practically bouncing his way over towards his desk, and Gavin feels his mouth lifting up in that smile that he’s sure is just as sickeningly love struck as it feels and, fuck, he really hopes Anderson isn’t protective enough yet to obliterate Gavin just for mooning over Connor. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!”

He blinks as Connor does an abrupt about face, turning to rummage through one of the drawers in his desk before straightening with a box in his hands. Gavin can see Anderson hissing something under his breath, but Connor’s only reaction is to roll his eyes. When Anderson scowls and mutters a follow up, glaring in Gavin’s direction just to really drive home the fact that, yes, he was the topic of what was sure to be a splendidly flattering conversation, Connor looks over his shoulder just long enough to stick out his tongue like the brat he is and Gavin’s pretty sure if he were any more ~~in love~~ infatuated there would be literal cartoon hearts flying around his head. 

“Here.” Connor offers the box to him with a soft, shy smile that Gavin wants to frame for anytime he’s feeling down, “I saw this the other day and thought of you.”

Gavin has about half a second to wrap his head around the fact that Connor got him a fucking present—one that reminded him of Gavin, _Connor fucking thinks about Gavin during the day_ —before he focuses down on the box and notices the picture of the cat on the front.

“Is this—“

“I did some research on Ragdoll cats, and I learned that in addition to being notably affectionate, they tend to be quite intelligent. Several sites recommended food puzzles to entertain them, and I thought perhaps your cat would appreciate one.”

Gavin blinks hard—god damnit, he is not going to start bawling in the middle of the station just because this absolute angel bought his cat a present, he’s totally not.

“You bought a present for Milo?”

Connor nods, suddenly seeming a lot more unsure of himself, fingers twisting together as he glances up from underneath his lashes, “is that weird?”

“Dude, I think this is legitimately the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, seriously.” The way Connor’s face lights up at that is definitely worth the pain of death Anderson is promising him with the very pointed glare that is _still_ shooting in his direction.

“Can I meet him?” 

It takes Gavin a second to process just who Connor is talking about—he’s having a hard time organizing his thoughts, feeling mildly concussed, as though the sheer force of Connor’s smile had actually physically busted him upside the head—and he knows that’s a bad idea. Gavin almost swooned his way onto the floor just from watching Connor react to a _picture_ of his cat, there’s no way he can handle seeing Connor actually interact with the little beast, not if he wants to keep his dignity in one piece. He just has to come up with a plausible excuse that won’t hurt the android’s feelings, that’s all, easy as p—  
“Yeah, of course, that’d be—that’d be awesome.” One of these days, Gavin’s going to have to do something about his brain’s tendency to just say shit without consulting him about it first. There’s no way to take it back now, not with the way Connor’s looking at him like he’s just given him the greatest gift in all the world. 

“Connor, come here, I need your help with this.” Gavin tries to pretend he doesn’t nearly jump out of his skin at the sound of Anderson’s voice from where he’s still watching them from his desk, but judging by the added suspicion in Anderson’s eyes he is unsuccessful. Connor rolls his eyes—and Gavin takes a moment to wonder if that’s something in his programming, or if he really did just pick it up from spending time with the lieutenant—giving Gavin a wave as he turns back towards his desk.

“Oh!” He suddenly stops, turning around once more, “do you know what’s really odd, Detective?”

_The fact that everything you do makes me feel like a middle schooler with his very first crush?_

“Um, no?”

“Numbers that aren’t divisible by two.”

Gavin can’t do anything but laugh, covering his face with his hands, “oh my god, who the hell is teaching you these?”

Connor simply bows with a wide, smug smile before walking to his desk, leaving Gavin looking down at the cat food puzzle on his desk with a fond grin and a warm feeling in his chest—he knows he’ll freak out later about the fact that he just invited Connor over to his fucking house, but for now he just lets himself feel _good_.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Yeah, so I love the headcanon that Gavin has a cat, we'll include that but it won't be a huge dea--  
> Also Me: MAKE THE CAT A MAJOR PLOT POINT
> 
> Also, brace yourselves, here there be /emotions/ uwu

“Don’t fuck this up for me, okay?”

Gavin pointed a stern finger in the face of the cat lounging across his lap. He was probably imagining the look of skeptical disapproval on Milo’s face, but who knew? It was possible that he’d become pathetic enough that even his damn cat was openly pitying him.

He sighed as Milo rolled over, stretching with a soft mewl and batting at Gavin’s hands until he relented with a fond huff, scratching the cat behind his ears as he tried to resist checking the clock for the tenth damn time in the past five minutes.

“I’m serious, you could really help me out. The guy’s got a _huge_ soft spot for animals—maybe if you make a good enough impression he’ll be willing to look past the fact that I’m a walking disaster.”

He jumped at the sound of very emphatic knocking at his front door, and he’s got about five seconds to take a deep breath in a probably futile attempt at steadying his racing heart before there’s a second round of knocking and _what the fuck,_ is he trying to punch a hole in the damn door? 

“Detective Reed? It’s me, Connor, you said this was a good ti—“

“Jesus Christ,” he flings the door open, hoping to put a stop to the shouting before one of his neighbors comes over to complain, and he’s fairly certain he gave the order for his face to arrange itself in some manner of a scowl, but at this point he’s not even surprised to find himself laughing with a dopey grin, “did they not bother programming you with any patience?”

Connor opens his mouth to retort, only to immediately stop with a gasp as he spots movement in the room behind Gavin and, fuck, it really just isn’t fair how fucking adorable he is.

Connor’s got both hands over his mouth as he stares at Milo, but Gavin can still see the smile, and the way he’s crinkled up his nose, eyes absolutely lighting up and it takes Gavin longer than it should to remember that they’re still just standing in the doorway. 

He reluctantly tears his gaze away from Connor’s look of awestruck joy, stepping to the side and motioning for the android to follow, “you gonna come in, or are you just planning on standing in the hallway for the rest of the day?”

Connor beams, and Gavin can’t help but laugh at the beeline he makes for Milo, but he frowns as Connor suddenly comes to a halt, standing absolutely still for a moment before quickly crossing his arms across his chest with a concerned glance at the cat, LED shifting from blue to yellow.

“Uh, Connor? You okay there, buddy?”

“I have found that cats often do not respond to my presence with the same enthusiasm I am used to with dogs.” And he looks down at Milo—currently rubbing himself up against the android’s legs, staring up with that little bitchface he gives Gavin when he feels Gavin isn’t picking him up and showering him with attention as quickly as he should be—with such a serious expression, as though the simple act of picking up a damn cat required the same level of planning as defusing a high stakes hostage situation.

“Hank has told me that I come on too strong.”

Gavin, again, is helpless to do anything but laugh because, yeah, he can totally see how Connor’s tendency to get overexcited and charge full speed towards any living creature he sees might intimidate whatever stray cats he’s run into. He only laughs harder when Connor shoots him a glare because holy shit, Milo is getting pissier and pissier with each second that goes by without finding himself lavished with the attention he thinks he deserves, and Gavin swears that Milo is glaring at Connor with the exact same look that Connor is currently pointing at Gavin, and it’s only been about one minute since Connor got there and Gavin already can’t handle it.

“Relax, dude, you’re in luck,” Gavin finally manages to stifle his laughter, taking pity on the android and the cat and walking over to heft Milo up into his arms, “he’s a very chill cat, and he’s all about attention. I promise you’re not gonna scare him off.”

Connor nods his head slowly, but he clearly doesn’t quite believe Gavin, judging by the hesitant way he slowly extends one finger to softly stroke behind the cat’s ears. He gives a soft, gentle gasp, smile back in full force and fuck, it’s the cutest thing Gavin’s ever seen.

“He’s so soft.”

Connor’s keeps his voice gentle, full of wonder and bordering on reverent as Milo tilts his head into the touch, already starting up a throaty purr and Gavin decides that he’s earned a few extra treats for the way the sound makes Connor’s eyes light up.

“You wanna hold him?”

Connor stares for a moment, eyes wide, looking as though Gavin had just offered him some sort of unspeakably precious gift—and, sure, Gavin certainly thinks Milo is absolutely perfect, but it still warms his heart to see someone else so in love with the little monster.

“May I?”

Gavin huffs a laugh as he transfer the cat into Connor’s arms, Milo immediately going boneless, cuddling into the android’s chest and Gavin is torn between wanting to take a picture of the sight to keep with him always, and knocking the cat out of Connor’s arms so he can take his place himself.

“Is he everything you were hoping he’d be?” 

“Even better.” And, god, Gavin is going to have to have a serious conversation with Connor one of these days, because he can’t just _say_ shit like that, not with that soft smile and bright eyes, gentle voice so sincere and full of awe and goddamnit, Gavin doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to be able to keep himself from just throwing all good sense and self control to the wind and kissing the android senseless. 

Connor ends up staying a few hours, perched on Gavin’s couch with Milo on his lap, the cat happily soaking up the added attention—and Gavin can’t help but roll his eyes, muttering under his breath as the cat does his best to act as though he never got any attention, as though Gavin didn’t spend pretty much all his free time outside of work catering to the spoiled little brats every whim.

Gavin find himself taking advantage of the excuse to sit closer to Connor than he typically could get away with, their shoulders brushing against each other as Gavin scratches his cat under the chin, smiling as the resulting increase in purr volume gets another delighted laugh from Connor.

“Does he like his puzzle?”

“Ha!” Gavin rolls his eyes, shooting the cat a fond glare, “the little bastard loves it. He’s started to get very put out if I don’t put treats in there for him—he’s actually woken me up at two in the morning a couple times just so I can refill it, so, y’know, thanks so much for turning him into even more of a monster than he already was.”

“Well, he’s clearly a very good cat. I would say he deserves some extra pampering.”

“Oh, don’t let him fool you, pampering is pretty much all the little asshole gets.”

Connor grins, leaning down to bump his nose softly against Milo’s and Gavin’s pretty sure his brain just fried itself, and it takes a second to process the fact that Connor is—very reluctantly—attempting to scoot Milo off of his lap so he can stand.

“I suppose I should be returning home. But I had a lovely time, thank you, Detective.” He bends down to give Milo one last, long scratch under his chin, “and, of course, thank you, Milo.”

“Yeah, uh, you can—you can stop by, whenever you want. I mean, only if you want to, obviously, I’m no—“

To Gavin’s relief, Connor stops him with a grin and a hand on his arm that Gavin swears sends a warm jolt to every part of his body.

“I think I would very much enjoy that.” Connor pauses, expression turning serious as he studies Gavin and it feels as though he’s really being _seen_ , as though Connor is carefully examining every piece of him and Gavin’s so damn scared of what he might be seeing.

“You have been very kind to me, Detective.”

Gavin can’t help but wince, thinking back to the way he had acted when they’d first met. But Connor simply smiles—one of those small, soft smiles that are so full of genuine affection it almost makes Gavin ache to look at—shaking his head before Gavin can deny or apologize.

“There is—a _lot_ I did in the beginning of my existence that I am not proud of.” Connor sighs, sounding lost and fragile and Gavin, not for the first time, is struck by a desire to burn CyberLife to the fucking ground for having a hand in putting that look on Connor’s face, that weight on his shoulders. But Connor simply shakes his head once more, clearly making an effort on not dwelling on whatever unpleasant memories are trying to bog him down.

“I know what it is to regret. And I have met many people who are content in clinging to harmful ideas because it’s easier than admitting they were wrong.” And Gavin has no fucking clue what to make of the smile Connor’s giving him, because people just don’t _look_ at him like that—like he’s something soft, something special, something _good_. 

“You are not one of those people, Detective. I suppose what I am trying to say is, thank you. For giving me the chance to be your friend. It—it means quite a lot to me.”

Before Gavin can figure out just what the hell the appropriate response to someone saying literally the nicest thing anyone has _ever_ said to him would be, Connor is tilting his head to the side, soft smile turning playful.

“You are living, you occupy space, and you have mass. Do you know what that means?”

Gavin just shakes his head, because he really, really doesn’t, and he’s a little afraid that if he tries to actually say anything he’s going to lose the very tenuous grasp he’s got on his emotions and just start bawling.

Connor leans forward, “you matter, Detective.”

And, yeah, as Gavin tries his hardest to ignore the way his throat tightens and his eyes burn, he figures it’s time to accept that he really, really loves this guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are seriously amazing, I can't gush enough over how much your comments and kudos mean to me! Every single comment you guys leave has me smiling like an idiot all day, I swear.   
> And if anyone wants to come scream with me about these two dorks please come hit me up on tumblr at prctecttcnystark! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all this was supposed to just be short filler chapter between Chris and Gavin and somehow turned into six freaking pages of gooey best friend goodness. Hope you enjoy! Also, I feel I should mention that I'm absolute crap at responding to comments, but I have read all of your guys' comments multiple times and I legitimately get a liitle choked up when I see that people are legit enjoying this story, so a huge, HUGE thank you to everyone who takes the time to comment! Y'all are the real MVPs, let's be real <3

Gavin told himself he was going to have a productive day today. He’d given himself a pep talk in the mirror and everything. Sure, he was still trying to deal with the fact that he felt like his eyes started fucking shooting little cartoon hearts out of his eyes anytime he looked at—or thought about—Connor, and sure, he had found that just watching every little thing Connor did when they were in the station together was so much better than actually doing work. But he was an adult—no matter what some terrifyingly overprotective lieutenants might say about him—and he could buckle down and do his job.

Currently, his plan was going _great_. He had his terminal all booted up and his case files opened on his desk, coffee in hand, and ignoring all of it in favor of watching Connor focus on his own case. Gavin wondered idly if Connor’s hair would feel just as soft as it looked if he were to run his fingers through it, maybe even get a nice handful and _tug_ —and, oh, hello inappropriate thoughts to have about a coworker in the _middle of work_ , yes, you’re right, it’s an awesome idea to imagine just what sorts of delightful noises Connor might make if Gavin pulled his hair, or got his mouth and him and—

“You’re such a fucking mess.”

Gavin jumps at the sound of Chris’s voice, the coffee he was currently drinking in an attempt to help his suddenly dry throat instead going straight into his fucking lungs and—from the feel of things—up his goddamn nose. He’s sure the subsequent choking, gagging, and swearing is just so charming, he’s _so_ glad Connor gets to witness this. Chris, the absolute bastard that he is, simply leans back from where he’s pulled up his chair next to Gavin’s desk, crossing his arms over his chest as he laughs.

Gavin did his best to glare, but he’s pretty sure the effect is somewhat ruined by the fact that his eyes are watering so badly he can’t really keep them open. Well, fuck him, Gavin’ll show him—he’s just going to die right here and now choking on this shitty station coffee, and Chris will have to live with the guilt of his death staining his conscience for the rest of his mortal days.

Unfortunately, the coughing fit passes and Gavin finds he is still quite alive—and, joy of joys, the whole fucking station, Connor included, seems to be staring at him in varying degrees of worry and amusement. Is it possible for a human to legitimately catch on fire from sheer embarrassment? At this point, Gavin’s kind of crossing his fingers that spontaneous combustion might save the day.

“Detective Reed, do you require assistance?”

And Connor, bless his little artificial heart, looks so legitimately worried, tensed as though he’s ready to leap across the room and snatch Gavin’s very soul back from the icy grasp of death with his own two hands if necessary. If Gavin weren’t incapable of feeling any other emotion besides crippling embarrassment, he’s sure he’d be touched.

“Uh, no—thanks buddy, but I think I’ll be good.” He smiles, giving Connor an A-OK sign that he regrets as soon as he does it because _who the fuck does that?_ He can see, from the corner of his eye, what looks suspiciously like disappointment on Anderson’s face, as though he were really hoping this would finally be the thing to put Gavin under, which—y _eah, you ‘n me both._ Connor, for his part, looked relieved, giving Gavin one more assessing glance—Gavin had his suspicions that he’s being scanned to make sure he legitimately going to just fucking keel over—before giving him a wide smile and returning his attention to his work.

Crisis successfully averted as the rest of the station begins to settle back into their own rhythm, Gavin turns his most cutting glare on his so-called best friend—who, by the way, is still fucking laughing at him.

“I could have died, you asshole.”

Chris just rolled his eyes, not even a trace of sympathy, “okay, so first of all, quit being such a drama queen. And, second of all, it’s not my fault that you were so busy mooning you didn’t notice me literally sit right next to you.”

Gavin can feel himself blushing, but he decides that maybe if he just completely ignores the heat on his face, it will just decide it has better things to do and leave him the fuck alone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His response is another laugh—full of disbelief and what Gavin knows is genuine delight over his _incredibly painful_ suffering, and really, couldn’t Chris spare just a little bit of sympathy?

“You’re ridiculous. One of the most ridiculous people I have ever met in my entire life—and, in case you were wondering, the only reason you’re not the most ridiculous person I’ve met is because he’s just as bad as you are.”

Gavin gives him a very skeptical look before taking another hesitant sip of his coffee—he hasn’t quite forgiven it for its attempted murder, but he needs something to fiddle with if he’s going to have This Conversation right now.

“I’m serious, man. Literally _everybody_ who has ever met the two of you know you’re in love with each other, except for _the two of you_. It would be really exhausting if it weren’t so entertaining—it’s like getting to see a live soap opera every day.”

“Your support is greatly appreciated, I don’t know what I would do without you.” Gavin puts every single ounce of sarcasm he can muster into the sentence, wanting no possible chance that Chris would think even for a second that he were being genuine.

Chris rolls his eyes with a snort of laughter, and, seriously, when is he going to stop laughing at Gavin’s pain?

“Dude, I love how you just skipped right over the part about Connor being just as disgustingly smitten with you as you are with him.”

“Yeah, I skipped over it because it’s ridiculous. I’m not going to dignify it with a response.” Gavin catches a glimpse on Chris’s face that his rational brain knows is sympathy, but which the horrible, screechingly neurotic part of him insists is pity, and it sets his teeth on edge. He wants to snap at Chris, spit something vile he knows damn well he’ll regret as soon as it leaves his mouth, but Chris—bless him—knows him well enough to already be moving on, leaving Gavin no room to get a horrible word in.

“You know he’s flirting with you, right? Like, constantly flirting with you. The only way he could be less subtle would be if he carried around a literal sign that said ‘Gavin I’m flirting with you, let’s date’.”

Gavin shakes his head, his gaze snapping down to focus on the files he’s supposed to be working on because, yeah, Gavin has sometimes gotten a suspicion that Connor might possibly be interested, but he’s always dismissed it because, again, _that would be ridiculous_.

“Why the fuck would he be flirting with _me_?”

Chris throws his hands into the air with an exasperated sigh, “because he likes you, you big idiot. Christ—y’know, you two have got to be the most oblivious people on the planet, you really do deserve each other.”

“Chris, he doesn—“

“Gavin, he came over to meet your cat.”

Now it was Gavin’s turn to lean back in his chair with a frustrated huff, “dude, he is _obsessed_ with animals. Do you remember when the guys from the K-9 unit brought some of the puppies in training over? He _literally_ cried. Him wanting to meet Milo doesn’t mean anything.”

“Sure, he’s obsessed with animals, but lots of people in this station have pets. I’ve never heard of him inviting himself over to anyone else’s house to meet their animal. And, by the way, ever since he met him he will not shut up about Milo, you know that, right? The only other animal he ever talks about that much is Hank’s dog.”

“That still does—“

“Okay, what about the jokes?”

Gavin feels himself blush again, crossing his hands over his chest with what he would like to call a scowl, but what he’s sure Chris would term a pout.

“What about ‘em? He likes to make people happy—you can’t tell me you haven’t seen how he fucking lights up whenever he makes someone laugh.”

“Again, true, but he does not spend his time looking up jokes to tell everyone else literally every time he talks to them. He only does that for you.”

Gavin can feel a bit of doubt creeping in, just a smidge of hope clawing its way into his chest and he does his best to viciously snuff it out. “You don’t know that he’s flirting, though—I’m not denying that he wants to be my friend, maybe he just thinks that’s how humans go around making friends.”

Chris shakes his head, “you know what I think? I think he read some shitty romantic advice column that suggested using humor as a way to show your interest to somebody, and he just took it and ran with it.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure I do.”

Gavin huffs, “uh, _no,_ you don’t.”

“ _Yeah_ , I do, dumbass.” “

How the fuck could you possibly—“

Chris laughs—really laughs, head thrown back and everything, and Gavin fights the urge to just karate chop the asshole right in the fucking jugular.

“Dude,” he finally manages, once he’s gained a little bit of control over himself, “I gave him the article. _I know_.”

Gavin is speechless for a solid thirty seconds. Sure, he’s in the middle of a police station, but would anyone really be able to stop him before he could manage to strangle Chris with his own two hands?

“Why the _fuck_ wo—“

“Once again, Gavin, you are completely missing the most important part of this.”

“Which is, what, that you’re the worst fucking friend on the face of the earth?”

“No, asshole, it’s that Connor asked me how to flirt with you. Specifically. He wanted to know how to flirt with _you_ , Gavin Reed.”

Gavin is struck speechless once more, but this time it’s a little less murderous. He feels that hope crashing its way back into his chest, and he can already tell there’s no way he’ll be able to stomp it out this time.

“Wait, he—he specified _me_?”

“Yes, you dumbass. He said—and, god, this was just the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard—that he had tried asking Hank, but he _wasn’t very helpful._ ”

“Oh my fucking god.” Gavin lets his head fall onto his desk, trying to imagine just how terribly that conversation would have gone. Strangely enough, he finds he doesn’t quite have enough focus to contemplate the horror of the thought, too focused on the fact that holy shit, Connor likes him.

“So, there you have it. You can stop stressing out about this and get off your neurotic ass and go ask him out.”

“See, you make it sound so easy—“

Chris leans across the desk and whacks him across the head, “oh, no, you are not gonna psych yourself out of this.”

He sighs, the sound frustrated but the look on his face nothing but fond. “Look, Gavin, I know I said it as a joke before, but you guys really are kind of perfect for each other. And you’re my best friend, and everyone likes Connor. You guys’ve had more than your fair shares of bullshit to deal with, you deserve to be happy. And he’s clearly trying to make his feelings known, even if he’s not very good at it yet—although, to be fair to him, the whole concept of emotions in general is still pretty new to him so we should probably cut him some slack. Which means that you gotta meet him halfway and be the one to ask him out.”

Gavin stares, face burning as he tries to process that whole spiel. Holy shit, who the hell told Chris it was okay to say sincere and heartfelt things like that?

“How dare you?” he finally manages, not quite able to suppress the genuine smile he can feel tugging at the corners of his mouth. Really, it’s times like this that Gavin is reminded that, despite all his bitching, Chris really is the greatest best friend a guy could ask for.

Chris returns the smile, reaching over to pat Gavin on the back in a move that is one part teasing to three parts genuine affection. “Look, as amusing as it’s been watching the two of you stumble over trying to awkwardly flirt with each other, somebody had to step in or you guys would have gotten stuck in some endless loop of unresolved sexual tension.”

“Fuck you.”

“Me, really? ‘Cause I would’a thought you’d be more interested in fu—“

“Oh, my god, I am begging you to stop.”

Chris grins at him—a look that promises absolutely nothing good for Gavin’s future, “oh, dude, you’d better buckle up. I have had to suffer through months of you guys being disgustingly, obliviously in love, I have had a long time to think up some really quality jokes.”

Gavin groans, letting his head fall back just in time to catch Connor looking over at them from the corner of his eyes. Gavin, in what has quickly become an automatic reaction he has stopped trying to suppress, smiles over at the android. The smile he gets in return is huge and blinding and _beautiful_.

“See, this is exactly what I mean. You two aren’t even sitting close enough to have a conversation and the flirting is just about enough to give me hives.”

Without looking away from Connor, Gavin holds his hand up to flip Chris the bird. He’s rewarded by one of his favorites of Connor’s laughs—the one that scrunches up his nose and crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He finally—reluctantly—returns his gaze to his friend, silent for a moment as he allows himself to actually consider what he’s been denying for so long.

“You really think I should go for it?”

“Gavin, I’m at the point where if you don’t ask him out, I’m going to ask him out for you. You know I will, and you know I will have a damn good time doing it.”

“All right, all right,” he laughs, not a single doubt in his mind that Chris would have any qualms about doing just that, “you’ve convinced me. I guess now it’s just a matter of, y’know, waiting for the right time—“ he holds up his hands at the look Chris flashes him, cutting him off before he can start what is sure to be an impressive scolding, “dude, I swear to god, this is not me procrastinating or backing out, I literally just want to find a good time. Wanna do it right, y’know?”

Chris shakes his head, but he’s grinning, wide and fond, “you sap.”

And Gavin doesn’t even try to deny it—and, oddly enough, that doesn’t make him nervous. Instead, he’s—excited, and, sure, a little bit terrified that this might still blow up in his face, but a whole lot more hopeful that his affection might not be as one sided as he’d been afraid of. It’s a bit of an odd feeling, but—as seems to be the case with every emotion Connor elicits in him—Gavin finds he enjoys it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I totally meant for this to just be a short little fluffy thing, maybe just a chapter or two long, and somehow it's turned into over ten thousand words of self indulgent fluff and puns and I love it. I'm pretty sure I'll have it wrapped up in two more chapters, but it's always possible I'll think of something to add at three in the morning

Today was going to be a good day. Truly, sickeningly wonderful, the kind of day that inspired nothing but desperate envy in the poor fools unlucky enough not to be gifted with it. Gavin hoped that, maybe, if he just kept telling the universe that today was going to be a _good fucking day,_ the universe would—for once—get its goddamn act together and actually let him have something nice. Today, after all, was the day that Gavin was finally going to ask Connor on an actual, romantic date.

  
Gavin had it all planned out. Well, he had some of it planned out. He had today planned out, for the most part—as for what _sort_ of date he was going to plan for Connor, well…Gavin was hoping inspiration would strike him when the time was right. 

The important thing was, today was going to go perfectly according to plan. Hank was needed in court—Gavin had no idea of the details of the case he was wrapping up, and quite frankly he didn’t care even a little. What he did care about was the fact that God had apparently decided to take mercy on Gavin and do him a solid, because Connor had been specifically asked not to accompany the lieutenant. Again, Gavin could not be bothered to figure out why, not when Chris and Tina had suggested to Connor that he accompany them for the afternoon, to get a better feel for what it was they did and how they operated—that had been Tina’s idea, and Gavin could have kissed her on the spot when he saw how Connor’s eyes had lit up at the prospect of a new experience. Of course, he decided that would probably send something of the wrong message to Connor, so he settled on buying her lunch that day and helping her catch up on paperwork.

Gavin wasn’t sure what Chris and Tina were planning on actually talking about with Connor over the course of the afternoon, and that actually did make him just a little nervous—especially when every time he had asked, Tina had just told him not to worry with a grin that did absolutely nothing to put him at ease, and Chris just straight out laughed in his face—but he figured he trusted the both of them with his life, he may as well trust them with this as well. Besides, they had both told him, on multiple occasions, how sick they were of watching him and Connor dance around each other, so Gavin supposed it was really in their own best interests to help him out.

Spending the day with Chris and Tina should hopefully put Connor in a bright and happy mood, so when Gavin caught up to him without Anderson breathing down his neck, he could propose the two of them…did—something? Gavin knew androids didn’t eat, so asking him out to dinner seemed silly, and he knew that Connor adored Milo, but was asking him back to his apartment too forward for a first date? Gavin was trying his best to keep the worries from his head—which, actually, was a little counterproductive, as he couldn’t think of a fun date idea for the two of them if he was too busy forcing himself not to think about the fact that he _had no idea what androids consider a fun date activity_.

  
Of course, this was ignoring the bigger issue at hand, which was that Tina and Chris were supposed to have brought Connor back to the station a half hour ago. He had stressed to the both of them—several times—that time would be of the essence, since everyone knew as soon as Anderson was out of court he would be making a beeline to find Connor to make sure he was still in one piece, as though the whole city of Detroit were just waiting for the lieutenant to turn his back before descending on the poor, defenseless android. Honestly, Gavin had seen Connor in action—while the android could certainly seem naïve at times, and he had a knack for trouble that some days seemed almost supernatural , he was far from defenseless.   
Gavin kept reminding himself of this fact—kept trying to picture one of the few time he had seen Connor well and truly pissed off, which resulted in one of the idiots stupid enough to take a swing at Hank being grabbed by the ankle and used as a weapon to bludgeon his friend by a furious ~~and devastatingly sexy~~ android ~~.~~ He kept telling himself that Tina and Chris were both good at their jobs, and could handle themselves remarkably well in a crisis—and, surely, the department would have been notified if three of their officers, one of which was a very high profile android, had been murdered sometime during the afternoon.

Gavin was startled from his work—which, of course, in this case meant making a list of every conceivable thing he could imagine that may have gone wrong, just in case he had missed something earlier that he could be panicking about—by what sounded like a lot of excitement coming from out front. 

Before he could lift himself up from his desk, he saw Chris very quickly coming towards him—he certainly looked panicked, but more of an _I fucked up_ sort of freak out than an _I got one of more of my dear friends killed and now Gavin will never know what it is like to kiss the most beautiful and perfect android ever created_ sort of terror. Gavin opened his mouth to ask just what the fuck was going on— _did Chris forget about the fucking plan_ —when Chris beat him to it.

“Hey, so remember how I’m your best friend and you’d be _super sad_ if Hank killed me?”

Gavin was pretty sure Chris wouldn’t be so flippant about this if Connor were dead or seriously injured, but he could feel his palms starting to sweat anyway, as though his body just couldn’t wait for the opportunity to get freaked out about something.

“What did you do?”

“Look, I would just like to go on record as saying that this is in no way my fault. At all.”

“Where’s Connor? And Tina, for that matter?”

“Oh, they’re totally fine—last I saw Tina had found a broom to try and knock Connor out of the tree.”

It took a solid twenty seconds for Gavin to process that sentence, and it _still didn’t make any fucking sense_. 

“Dude— _what_?”

“Yeah, see, Connor had something he wanted to look into, and me and Tina said we would be happy to help him out—‘cause we were being good wingmen for you, remember?”

“Chris, wh—“

“Well, turns out he was trying to track down some sort of code or virus or something that basically mimics when humans get flooded with dopamine and epinephrine and norepinephrine—“

“Oh my fucking god.”

“Yeah, and, well, y’know how Connor likes to jump in to situations without properly thinking through the consequences of them?”

“Oh my fucking god. Chris, tell me he’s not fucking high right now.”

“Gavin—oh my god, Gavin, _he’s so fucking high_.”

Gavin covered his face with his hands, distantly wondering just what he had done to God to make Him point at Gavin and say ‘ _yeah, fuck you in particular’._

“Chris, what the fuck?”

“Look, I know this was finally gonna be the day you got off your ass and did something about your super embarrassing crush, but we have a new priority now.”

“Oh, we do? And just what the fuck would that be?”

“Making sure I don’t die, that’s what. You _know_ Hank’s gonna be pissed when he comes back, and, man, I do not want to have to fight him. I’m not even gonna pretend to think he couldn’t snap me in half if he wanted to, and quite frankly the only reason I’m in this situation in the first place is because of you, and I really don’t want to die because you don’t know how to say the words ‘ _hey let’s date_ ’ without passing out.”

Gavin’s torn between wanting to punch Chris right in his stupid fucking lungs, and a really, really embarrassing urge to cry just a little, because fuck, is he really that pathetic?

Chris looks pissed for about two seconds before he visibly regrets snapping, holding his hands out, “wow, that was way meaner than I meant it to be, the point i—“

Whatever he’s preparing is interrupted by a blur jettisoning its way into the middle of the station, running into the wall with an audible thump and what sounds suspiciously like cracking plaster and—

“Hey, Tina must’ve gotten him down from the tree.”

Gavin pauses to glare at Chris before turning towards where Connor lay splayed out on the carpet, apparently completely stunned by the appearance of a fucking wall in his path. His LED is rapidly blinking blue—brighter than what Gavin feels is normal, and he can’t figure out if that’s a bad sign or not—and the fact that he’s just laying on his back, staring at the ceiling with the kind of focus people usually reserve for indecipherable codes and mouthing something to himself is sort of freaking Gavin out.

“Uh, hey, Con—“

He cuts off with a yelp as Connor suddenly jerks his entire body, shifting so his feet and pointed at Gavin before he starts flailing at him as quickly as he can, which, Gavin finds, is pretty fucking quick.

Gavin has about half a second to jump back before Connor opens his mouth and screeches “STREET SMARTS!” at the top of his lungs. Connor took advantage of the fact that everyone was frozen in shock, jumping back to his feet and leaping up to stand on top of Hank’s desk. Gavin thinks he hears the lieutenant himself, his voice far away but quickly getting closer and clearly raised in anger, and he decides that he is not nearly drunk enough to deal with this situation right now. 

“Connor,” Chris is full on pleading already, and Gavin idly wonders just what the hell the trip to attempt to coral Connor back to the station was like, “please get down from there.”

_“I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson_!” 

Gavin can’t tell if Connor is yelling because he’s so offended at the idea of listening to anyone else, or if he legitimately doesn’t realize how loud he’s speaking. He opens his mouth—he doesn’t have high hopes that Connor will actually listen to him, but if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s doing the same fucking thing and hoping for a different result—but he’s interrupted by 6’2” of enraged Hank Anderson storming into the room.

“That is _bullshit_ , Connor, you’ve never taken an order from me in the entire time I’ve known you! And get off my fucking desk, right now!”

“ _No_! I’m a deviant now, Hank, I don’t have to listen to you anymore!”

“What the fuck do you mean _anymore_!? Name one time you listened to what I told you to do, just one goddamn time!”

“Well, maybe that says more about the quality of your orders than it does about me!”

Gavin can’t decide if he wants to be somewhere else— _anywhere else_ —or if he wants to pop some popcorn and pull up a chair to really enjoy the show. Connor is a brat on the best of days, but this—this is incredible. 

“Oh, you little motherfucker, get down from there!”

Gavin decides it’s probably for the best to take the opportunity to escape while Hank is distracted. Apparently Chris has the same idea, as the both of them begin to edge towards the door at almost the exact same time. Out of the corner of his eye, Gavin can see Tina leaning on the wall in the hallway, a broom clutched in her hands and a look of complete and utter exhaustion on her face.

“Oi! Dumb and Dumbass, where the fuck do you two think you’re going?”

Gavin would ask which one he was supposed to be, but a.) he’s pretty sure he already knows, and b.) he’s apparently never really and truly pissed Hank off before, because the sight of all that fury pointed right at him has his life flashing a little bit before his eyes. He’s saved from the Wrath of Hank, not for the first time, by Connor’s constantly shifting attention landing on him.

“ _Detective Reed_!” Connor has apparently forgotten about trying to bicycle kick Gavin’s head right off of his shoulders only a few minutes before. Gavin finds he doesn’t have it in himself to hold a grudge, not when he’s faced with such sheer enthusiasm and genuine excitement. 

“Uh, hey, Connor. What’re you doi—“

“How do you organize a party in space?”

Gavin almost feels dizzy for a second, as though the rapid shift in topic had thrown him physically off balance. He’s already smiling, though—he’s loved Connor’s little jokes since the very first one, and he appreciates them all the more ever since Chris insisted they were in fact the android’s attempts at flirtation.

“Uh, I dunno, Connor, how?”

“YOU PLANET!” Connor literally jumps up and down in his excitement over delivering—at top volume, no less—the punchline, and it’s quite possibly the cutest thing Gavin has ever seen in his life. Although Hank apparently disagrees.

“ _Hey_! I told you that one—how dare you use a joke I told you in this weird little thing you’re doing with him?”

“ _It’s not weird_!” Connor’s got his hands on his hips, leaning down to shout in Hank’s face and Gavin feels he really should not find that as endearing as he does, “it’s romantic!”

Connor straightens up, arms crossed over his chest as he looks over at Gavin, apparently waiting for approval. And, really, what kind of monster could deny him that?

“It’s, uh, it’s very romantic, Connor, it’s great.” He’s pretty sure he’s blushing, and he knows he’s smiling like an idiot, but the wide smile Connor beams at him somehow makes it all worth it.

“ _Ha_! I told you, Hank!”

Anderson looks about two seconds away from climbing up onto the desk himself and fighting Connor with his own two hands, and as hilarious as Gavin is sure that would be to watch, he figures Connor would appreciate it if he didn’t let him concuss and/or kill his best friend by knocking him off his own desk while high out of his fucking mind.

He sighs, turning towards where Tina is still skulking in the hallway, doing her best to watch everything without being seen herself, gesturing for her to hand him the broom. Sure, he didn’t get to ask Connor out on a proper date, but at least he’s gotten confirmation from the android himself that he’s been trying to be romantic. 

Holding the broom in one hand, Gavin claps Chris on the shoulder with the other, “if Hank corners me, rest assured I will throw you under the bus, and I will take so much joy out of dragging you down with me.”

“Right back at’cha buddy.”

Gavin laughs, stepping forward as he tries to gauge the best way to sweep the love of his life off a coworker’s desk so he can be captured and taken somewhere to sleep it off. His life has taken a strange turn, to be sure, but as Gavin ducks underneath one of Connor’s flailing kicks, he’s pretty sure he’s never been happier.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note, I really need someone to stop me from making a new RP blog and trying to write Gavin and/or Connor, because ya girl is getting real tempted


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure, I have zero medical knowledge and I have never personally experienced having a concussion, so I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies!
> 
> (Also! Catiacchi drew this absolutely wonderful chibi Gavin with a cat and everyone should go look at it! http://catiacchi.tumblr.com/post/175410881655/someday-i-read-a-fic-about-them-by-curiosty-and)

Gavin's head hurts.

  
Vaguely, he can hear panicked screams and heavy thuds that certainly seem like they should be loud, but somewhere in his brain become fuzzy and muffled. From the cold, gritty cement against his back and the grimy tile he sees above him, he's pretty sure he's laying on his back, which means he should work on standing up, but everything is swimming in and out of focus and he can't seem to get his legs to cooperate. Or his arms, for that matter, and as the blackness of his vision registers with some surprise he realizes that his eyes have also decided to go ahead and close themselves against his direct orders. So, his entire body has just up and decided to stage some sort of mutiny--wonderful.

His body feels like cotton--heavy cotton. His nose scrunches up as he considers the metaphor. Is cotton ever heavy? Maybe cotton that's been dunked in water, that could work. In fact, now that he's considering it, he does seem to be rather wet--oh, shit, was he dunked in water? Is he in water right now?

He sucks in a frightened breath, realizing too late that if he is under water that's a really fucking stupid thing to do--but he's relieved to find no water flooding into his lungs, only warm Detroit air. That's good, that means he can cross drowning off of his list of immediate worries. His thoughts are coming so sluggishly--yet somehow managing to bounce from one to the other before he can really process them, and somewhere in the back of his aching skull he feels like those qualities shouldn't be appearing together--he's not confident he could troubleshoot his way through not drowning.

_God_ his head hurts. The rest of his body, as he's decided, feels like soggy cotton, and his thoughts are slipping effortlessly through the numb fingers of his mind--and he feels once again that that comparison doesn't really make sense, but this time he's too tired, and too sore to try to find a better one--so why is it that his head still feels like someone took a rusty pipe to it?

He frowns--that almost seems to spark a memory of an actual rusty pipe coming at his actual face, very quickly--but he can't get himself to focus on it. Ah, well. The screams and thumps filtering in have died down, and the silence seems to press down on him--not necessarily in a bad way, though. He hums softly as he tries to think it over--it almost feels as though it's keeping him still, tightly packaged, like when people wrap their fragile plates in paper to keep them from breaking when they get packed away. It's almost--nice, in a way. He certainly feels fragile some days--especially moments like this, where his head feels like it might decide any second to just give up and let his brain spill out onto the floor--maybe it's a good thing this heavy silence is snugged up around him, keeping him safe.

Through his soft cocoon of silence, little noises begin to filter in again. Gavin scowls, idly trying to open at least one of his peskily uncooperative eyes. Just when he was feeling so nice and secure, here come the sounds of shoes scuffing against cement, distant voices repeating something again and again that he's too tired to try to puzzle out. He knows these sounds are coming to cut him out of his comfy, silent packaging, and he knows that as soon as he's dragged back into the world outside this buffer, his head is going to hurt _so much worse_.

He refuses to move--or, rather, he refuses to attempt to move, as he's still not convinced he would be able to get any part of his body to actually listen to him--even as the sounds get closer and closer, and he's suddenly reminded of watching _Jurassic Park_ when he was a kid. The T-Rex couldn't see any of the people unless they moved, right? Maybe that would work for him. Maybe if he just stayed still and quiet, whatever it was that was coming over to him would get confused and wander off. As fuzzy as he was, he was still a bit unsure of the logic of this plan, unless--holy shit, _did a T-Rex hit him with a rusty pipe_? It seemed unlikely--weren't they the dinosaurs with such short arms? How would it even wield a weapon like that effectively?

Gavin is startled from attempting to puzzle through the logistics of a dinosaur bludgeoning someone over the head by a finger poking him right in the fucking face, and a gruff, loud voice coming from right above him. 

_It's the T-Rex!_

"The fuck did you just call me?"

Huh. He must have spoken out loud, not just in his head like he meant to. Or maybe he did just say it in his head, and maybe the crack in his skull that hurts so damn badly let it slip out? Did that make sense?

"What? No, of course that didn't make any fuckin' sense. Come on, Reed, let's get you up so your not-so-secret admirer can chill the fuck out before he goes back and hands out some _very illegal_ police brutality to the idiots in the other room."

He hears a response to that--it's faint, but familiar. Come to think of it, the loud voice is familiar, too, but not in the same way. The other voice is softer, more--comfortable. Like wrapping up in a favorite quilt when the snow is driving down outside. The feeling of being warm and safe.

"Oh, Jesus, you're ridiculous. Come on, Reed, if you can wax poetic you can open your damn eyes and--Connor, I swear to God, if you try to leave this room one more goddamn time I _will_ handcuff you to the fuckin' wall. He is _fine_ , and they are _restrained_. You're a detective now, that means you can't just go around killing prisoners for shits 'n giggles."

"F'ck off."

Gavin's a little proud of himself. It was only two words, sure, and one of them only halfway came out, but still. He wasn't entirely sure his mouth was going to work with him on that. 

"Oh, for--see, now I _know_ you're fine. Come on, asshole, open your eyes before he has some sort of robot heart attack, would ya?"

He hears a sigh--not from the voice beside him, but the other one. The warm one. He hears shoes on the cement again, before fingers are once more touching his face. Although, this time isn't quite as bad as the last. These hands are gentle as they cup his face, thumbs stroking softly underneath his eyes and, oh--what do you know, apparently his eyes just needed the right incentive to get off their lazy ass because he finds himself squinting up at an out of focus blur that slowly reveals itself to be the most beautiful face Gavin has ever seen in his entire life. 

"Woah."

The face--Connor, his mind finally supplies, and he thinks he should probably be more concerned that it took him this fucking long to recognize him, but to be honest he'd rather just lay on his back and bask in this gorgeous sight--smiles, and would you look at that, he's somehow _even more beautiful_. 

"Is this heaven?"

Connor laughs, soft and fond and Gavin sees lines of tension he hadn't really even registered as being there fade away. He thinks that's probably good. Connor is--Connor is _wonderful_ , Gavin doesn't want him to be stressed out. 

"Oh, I see how it is. So, when I'm passed out I get the ever loving Christ _bitch-slapped_ right out of me, but this douchebag gets the calm and loving bedside manner? That's cold, Connor."

Connor shoots a glare at the other voice--Hank, Gavin's sluggish brain finally provides, the other voice is Hank--but even Gavin, as loopy as he knows he is, can see the fond curve of his mouth even as he tries to scowl.

"It's completely different. You were in an ethylic coma and it was important to bring you back to consciousness. Detective Reed is clearly suffering a traumatic brain injury and such rough treatment could drastically worsen his condition."

"Uh-huh, sure. Now, if you're all done fondling the brain injury out of your Romeo over here, can we get back to the station? It's raining fuckin' cats 'n dogs out here and I'm ready to be done with this clusterfuck. Fuckin' told Fowler sending Reed out with us wouldn't end well."

Connor rolled his eyes, taking his hands of off Gavin's face--much to Gavin's disappointment--but not moving away from where he was crouched beside him. 

"We should have Detective Reed evaluated. Blunt force trauma can have severely damaging effects if left untreated."

"Nngh--no, 'm fine."

"See? Hear that, he's totally fine. Throw him over your shoulder and let's get those assholes down to booking so we can go the fuck home."

He heard Connor rustling around beside him, but he couldn't see his face anymore from his angle on the ground and he was far too tired to make an effort to move.

"Jesus, Connor, don't give me the fuckin' bitch face. Fine, look, let's load everybody up and we'll swing by the hospital and drop him off ourselves. That way we can get out of this fuckin' place and he still gets his precious little skull checked out by a professional. Everybody wins."  
Gavin hears Connor sigh, but his head injury has apparently made the acquaintance of the two hours of sleep he managed to grab the night before in between running down leads and interviewing witnesses, and he can almost feel his brain slam its fist down on the Hard Reset button.

"Mmmm. 'm fine. Gonna sleep. Tired. Too tired."

"Hm. Perhaps we should just take him with us."

"Halle-fuckin'-lujah. C'mon, you grab Prince Charming and I'll go get the human garbage waiting in the next room. And, Connor, I swear to God if I come back in here and either one of you is missing a single article of clothing, I'm leaving the both of your here."

Even Gavin, in his befuddled state, can hear the offended gasp from the android.

"Hank, it would be incredibly unethical for me to take such advantage of Detective Reed while he's in such a state!"

Gavin vaguely hears Hank rumble a reply, but he can feel himself fading once more. He'd thought earlier that the floor had been so uncomfortable, pressing harsh and unforgiving into his spine, but suddenly it feels as wonderfully welcoming as a king size mattress. Sleep just sounds so incredibly nice right about now. Maybe Connor would even lay down next to him? Gavin thinks that would be very nice. Do androids sleep?

"I have what is typically referred to as 'sleep mode' by humans in order to recharge battery, but I am unsure as to how it compares to organic sleep. Although, I believe the point is moot at the moment, as my understanding of human physiology suggests it would be unwise of me to allow you to fall asleep before being evaluated."

Gavin almost misses the smile Connor gives him--an absolutely wonderful mix of fond and a touch of exasperation, hopeful and perhaps a little shy and Gavin could _weep_ at the beauty of it. Well, perhaps a little bit of that emotion is coming from what is apparently a pretty solid concussion, but only a little bit--the majority is definitely from the privilege of getting to see Connor's face.

"Perhaps, though, once you are feeling better I can join you in sleep."

And, damn, it may be the concussion talking but that sounded a little like Connor asking him on a date. A--sleep date, which, sure, was maybe a little weird, but it's the thought that counts, right?

"Can I kiss you?"

Gavin isn't quite sure whether he or Connor is more surprised by the question. Gavin would love to blame it on his head injury, but he vaguely remember blurting out shit he didn't mean to say being a problem he just has pretty much any time he's in Connor's vicinity. He should probably sort that out at some point.

Connor recovers first--and Gavin _will_ blame the concussion for that--leaning down and for a second Gavin has a heart-stoppingly wonderful moment to think Connor's actually going to kiss him. But the android simply slides his hands underneath Gavin's shoulder, hauling him gently into a sitting position, continuing to tug to get him to stand. Which, holy shit, laying down was much better than this--his splitting headache was only metaphorical before, he's a little worried his head might actually be cracking in two, not to mention the way his stomach twists and knots and oh, God, it is definitely going to kill whatever mood they've got if Gavin pukes all over Connor.

"As I told Hank," Connor, apparently getting tired of waiting for Gavin to stand up of his own volition, simply slings one of Gavin's arms over his shoulders and lifts the both of them up, "it would be unfair of me to take advantage of you while you are not in complete control of your thoughts and actions."

And on the one hand, it's a good thing that Connor's holding onto him, because if he weren't Gavin would have immediately fallen on his face once he's pulled onto his feet. On the other hand, if Connor weren't holding onto him he would still be comfortably passing out on the floor, so on the whole it's probably a wash.

"But, I think," Connor pauses, eyes soft and sweet as he glances at Gavin from beneath his lashes, "I think that you should ask me again when you are fully recovered."

_Did he--does that mean--_

"Uh--think 'm gonna puke."

_Real fuckin' romantic, Gavin._

But Connor simply smiles that soft, fond smile once more, arm firm and secure around Gavin's waist as he begins to walk them towards the exit.

"Nasuea is a common side effect of concussions, I am told. We should get you to the car so you can lay down--and, of course, the sooner you are evaluated the better. You'll feel better soon, although I can't promise the next few moments will be anything close to pleasant."

And as Gavin forces his feet to trudge along next to Connor as much as he can, he kind of thinks that might be a bit of an understatement. But, as much as he really just wants to curl up on the ground and go to sleep, threat of death be damned, he keeps replaying what Connor said over and over in his muddled head.

_I think that you should ask me again when you are fully recovered._

So, he grits his teeth and does his best to listen to Connor's chatter that he has a suspicion is only being kept up in order to keep Gavin awake and listening. There was a time--a much too recent time, Gavin knows--the he never would have believed it, but Gavin finds himself looking forward to staying alive just so he can finally find out if it's every bit as wonderful as he imagines it would be to kiss Connor--and maybe see if the android going into 'sleep mode' is as adorable as it sounds like it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking there'll be one more chapter to wrap this up--I still can not believe how much I've written for something that was originally just supposed to be a chapter or two long! Thank you again to everyone who's commented and left kudos, I feel so grateful that my first experience with fic writing has been such a positive one, and I can't stress enough how much it means to me to know that you guys are enjoying this! <3


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